Of Scathe and Void
by This Earth is Tainted
Summary: The warrior, Surtr, had many titles to his name, but not one of them mattered in this world. And that knowledge was liberating ... at first. This land was just as dangerous as Tamriel, and even now his guard must be raised. It's not his own life for which he fears anymore, but that of his master. Well, he called her that, but this still sounded like marriage to him.
1. During Sleep

_Chapter 1 - During Sleep_

* * *

The stench of old and dusty book pages was one that wafted all throughout the alien halls and buildings here in Apocrypha. To Surtr it carried a comforting nostalgia that set him at ease each time he arrived to the realm of knowledge.

It was a false, sickening sense of serenity, of which he was sure Hermaeus Mora had crafted just for him.

The twisted masonry gleamed under the dull green sky, papers bearing cryptic contents fluttered aloft the courtyard in which he sat, towers of stacked tomes stood about, a permanent fog clouding where one might usually see the land's horizon, the expansive lake a black and slimy stew of slow moving tendrils. His cloak was the only true comfort he bore at the moment, resting his seat on a hard iron bench not forged for any man to actually sit on.

In his hand lay a book, contained within was a story—a fiction, only serving to entertain him. The dark deity would be perplexed had it noticed his being here. Around him were the countless archives of world-shattering truths and revelations concerning the structure of the very universe itself. And it was here he chose to bother himself with something only a child would find worthy of attention.

There had been a time not long ago when journeys and adventures were something he busied himself with all the time. Some friends told him it was the nature of youth betraying his own character. He had argued that it was in his character, and that was the crux of the matter. Nowadays, though, he was meant to be apart of something much greater than himself, and this adventurous spirit he held was something harmful.

No one had told him that. It was something he surmised himself. After all, he was the Champion of Hermaeus Mora; the Last Dragonborn; the Thane of Whiterun. Even so, there existed no duty that could not be fulfilled by some other man in this world. As fun as traveling nations was, the young man did not at all relish the days he held the lives of many in his inexperienced and clumsy hands.

It had been odd, learning of his true nature after answering the Greybeards' call those few years ago. As he understood it, his soul was that of a dragon contained in the body of a mere man. It had not felt empowering to discover, rather he'd seen himself as a beast. And with the knowledge that all dragon-kind possessed an insatiable hunger for power and growth, he'd seen himself as a tyrant.

The strongest things he'd ever fought—the World-Eater Alduin; the Vampire Lord Harkon; the First Dragonborn, Miraak … Had he not undertaken the hardships it took to face these beings, the whole of Nirn would have faced destruction and death and fear, far exceeding many catastrophes the world had faced in its history. To meet these otherworldly threats, he'd sought out the very powers that made them so immovable.

And now he carried with him the thought. If the rush these powers had granted him took hold of his mind one day … what would become of the world? Of all the families he'd saved? Of the very people he wished to fight for?

It was something he once discussed with his teacher, Paarthurnax. The old dragon had not at all been confounded by his worrisome musings.

_Faas do geinmaar_. The fear of oneself is the greatest fear there can be, he was told. Just as the dovah overcame his nature, Surtr too was to conquer his strength.

Once again, it was not long before his reading had turned to meditation.

* * *

The moment had finally arrived. And when she strode forward the whispers unceremoniously began. It had always been this way. Not one word of encouragement from her peers as she collected her nerves, only jeering and insulting and teasing. To say it did not shake her resolve would be to lie, but she would move on in spite of it all, just as she always had.

"Are you prepared, Louise?" The Professor urged her on.

A lowly snicker reached her ears. She ignored it. She ignored everything. Her breath steadied and her body calmed. Today was the day of the Springtime Summoning. It was a tradition devised by the Founder Brimir himself centuries ago. Each year a new generation of mages were allowed the grounds for their very own familiars to be summoned—animals taken from any place in the world that mostly suited the mage that summoned them.

From there a contract was always made between servant and master, a bond meant to be lifelong.

"Yes, sir." She muttered out, stepping into the circle. She raised her wand and bellowed the rite.

Herein lay her chance, an opportunity to twist her reputation into one befitting of a mage. She could feel the sun beam down on her, as if to display her to the world as someone worthy of the name 'Vallière'. Perhaps to even make her worthy of something more.

She shut her eyes.

"My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière," she announced.

It was a powerful name, a name worthy of respect. Today, it would finally command such a thing.

"Pentagon of the five great elemental powers …"

The girl had endured so much humiliation in her short life. She knew it must have all been in service of some greater purpose. The world had no cruelty without purpose.

"Heed my summoning, and bring forth my familiar!"

She felt the warmth of the light envelope her. She latched onto this sensation, knowing it couldn't last. Things would go wrong, as they always did. That's what it told her, the constant doubt she carried with her every day. No, it would work this time. It _was_ working!

The gate tore open before her, brilliant light shining and blessing her eyes with its magnificence. An exhilarating joy filled her chest. The others were staring at her, heedless of the amazing creature she was calling, but she knew better! It would be something beautiful, powerful, and terrifying all at once. And it would care for her, protect her far better than any other vermin her peers could conjure.

That was the only way things could proceed, given all that she had tolerated all these years. Otherwise, what would it have all been for?

As quickly and as wonderfully as the gate opened, it closed right then in a puff of smoke and wind that blew back the cloaks of all standing in the field that day.

And when the smoke cleared …

The mutterings of the crowd rose from whispers to excited exclamations.

"What is … it?" One student stammered.

"It's black all over. …" Someone else observed in awe.

And then went one "Wait, that looks like a man." and everything seemed to plunge into chaos.

The crowd of teenagers started to speak all at once—voices of confusion, footsteps taken closer to examine just what lay there before them, a few indignant shouts expressing doubt that Louise could have possibly summoned anything worth all the attention.

Yet there in the grass was a human. More than that, it appeared to be a knight! Whoever the man was, he was wearing a black fur-trimmed cloak of splendid quality, each hair making it seem fine enough to use as a blanket if one wished. His arms were outstretched as he lay on his belly, revealing just enough for all to see the elegant armor he donned.

Forged from some dark metal, the plated gauntlets and pauldrons looked expertly crafted, each plate lined with white engravings intricate enough to belong on a tapestry. Then there was the face. He was young, but old enough to have grown some scruff on his chin. His skin was pale, as if he'd never been under the sun a day in his life. His hair was just as black as his gear, neck-long and unkempt.

Louise was bewildered.

"_The Zero summoned a person! How in Brimir's name did she mess up that badly?"_

"_He's too well dressed—he must be in a nobleman's employ!"_

"_Oh, that's great! You've landed us all in trouble, Vallière!"_

"_Hmm. … He does look quite dashing, though, does he not?"_

"_Kirche, please."_

"Everyone!" Professor Colbert raised his voice. "Quiet down, please!"

The girl turned to her teacher, flushed and befuddled, and let loose a river of questions. "Mister Colbert! What went wrong? How did my spell call forth a human? Where is my familiar?"

The man adjusted his spectacles and put a hand to his chin. "Well, Miss Vallière, that _is_ your familiar."

"But …" she stuttered, fighting to find the words. "That is a human! A commoner! A knight! That isn't … That can't be—"

"Miss Vallière, I understand your confusion." The balding man interrupted. "I am just as puzzled by this occurrence as you. Although not once have I heard of a human being summoned in all the history of the Springtime Summoning … it is still just that: a summoning. And you have finally succeeded in the summoning. As such, it is prudent that you follow through and complete the rite."

She said nothing more. There was nothing more to say.

And so the summons ended with an especially flustered Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, sitting next to an unconscious man in gleaming armor, to whom she was apparently now bound for the remainder of her life.

She'd wanted something akin to that of a dragon or a griffin. Beautiful and powerful and terrifying all at once, who would care for her and protect her till the end of days.

Instead, she had been given the last of the Dragonborn.

And Louise knew not that, in time, this would prove to be the better of anything she could have hoped for.

* * *

**A/N****: The Dragonborn in this story is no werewolf or vampire or mage. His roots are stemmed in stealth and thievery, as well as being an indomitable warrior. I'm trying to write in a bit of a fanciful style to fit the genre of both series more, and some stuff will seem a bit oddly written or obnoxious because of it. Do tell me what I can do better.**

**And thanks for reading. The beginning will be a bit slow, but you won't regret staying! Hopefully _…_**


	2. Waking Up

_Chapter 2 - Waking Up_

* * *

Surtr had been especially confused when he awakened.

Clearly, things were amiss—including himself, for there was nowhere he knew similar to the room he was in right then. His sword had been taken from his back and placed directly beside him, properly sheathed in its scabbard. There was no need to look to know he was wearing his set of ebony-plate, the helmet still dangling from his belt. His left gauntlet had also been removed and laid next to him on the wooden floor.

There, on the back of his hand, were some odd runes inscribed into his skin. They looked like old Nordic, and he was dreadful at reading old Nordic. It wouldn't have been the first time he awoke with symbols written on his body, but these were most likely not some extremely vulgar phrase one of the Companions thought would be amusing. They looked a fair bit more permanent than that.

Around him was a bedroom, that much was certain. In it: a bed, a standing closet, a shaded lantern, a chair and desk, and a glass window. The lantern had been lit and he could see the night sky open up just beyond the window. Near the closed door his black cloak hung from the wall.

He inspected his belt pouches. Nothing was missing. On the contrary, there were more trinkets than he remembered to be carrying: a few lockpicks, some gemstones, his coin purse, and a Daedric heart—small, glassy, and red. That last item was something to be suspicious of, as he was sure that hadn't been there before …

No. He couldn't quite recall yesterday. There was him heading to bed for the night after putting away the Black Book. After that … a murky mess.

Not without a fair bit of worry, Surtr clambered his way up and over to the window. Catching a long look outside revealed lush forests and fields below him, illuminated by moonlight. So, this room was higher up in whatever building he was in, and it definitely wasn't in the middle of a tundra. Not one telltale plant to give him a small idea as to where he could be. Nothing.

"Where …" he mumbled and returned to the floor, knowing the room would not and could not answer his query.

It may not have been the answer he wanted, but it was then that the door of the room opened, and in walked—or stamped, rather—a little girl who proceeded to shut it behind her in an obvious show of irritation.

The young girl was wearing a white tunic, a small black cape at her back, and what appeared to be an alarmingly short black blouse and leggings that revealed too much skin for someone so small. He was particularly focused on her hair. It was longer than any woman or girl in Skyrim would ever think of growing. The color of this far-reaching mane was a bright, pale, unmistakable pink.

And Surtr simply stared.

"… Pink … hair," he muttered out to no one but himself, perhaps in an attempt to reconcile the very notion of such a thing existing. It looked beautiful, yes, but that did nothing to ease his state of mind.

Halting her frustrated march at the sudden voice, the girl's eyes caught him and her expression softened by some small fraction. She took a seat at the desk.

"You're finally awake," she said before sighing. "I was beginning to think I had summoned a comatose commoner as well as a knight. I hung your cloak. I didn't want to ruin something so well made. You should be grateful to whatever noble lended you that."

'Noble' … There weren't many he knew who used class distinctions so casually, and the few that he did he wasn't very fond of.

"Honestly," she continued. "Did you really have to make me carry you all the way up here? Why are you so hard to wake up?"

This girl had carried him? She sounded so blue-blooded, he wouldn't have thought she'd be that kind.

"Um … I'm sorry for being such a bother. I don't quite remember," he said truthfully. The girl looked a fair bit surprised for whatever reason, promptly averting her gaze.

"Think nothing of it. Just what sort of mage would I be if I neglected my familiar?"

"Familiar?" he repeated. Was she referring to him somehow?

"I … suppose you are uninitiated," she huffed. "You are currently on the grounds of the Tristain Academy of Magic. I called you here through use of the Servant Summoning spell, and that makes you my familiar."

Well, that was certainly odd. The concept wasn't entirely foreign to him. He'd read books on conjuration magic, even summoned up a lesser Daedra once or twice. Familiars, as he understood them, were similar in principle to the conjuring of Atronachs and the like, only permanent and, as a result, far smaller and weaker. Summoning a human through such a spell? That sounded far beyond his grasp on the clever crafts.

"Then … why was I summoned? Aren't familiars usually animals?" he asked.

"I don't know why," she declared tiredly. "I'm told I'm the only mage to have ever summoned a human for a familiar. Your left hand there is all the proof you need."

Had that been what the runes on his hand entailed? Some manner of branding? Had he been talking to an adult, he would have some very choice words about that, but this girl's intent didn't seem sinister enough to warrant any real outrage.

"I was also told the symbols are unique, which I'm hoping means you have some special ability," she said with a grin. "Even so, your role is the same. My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, and I am your new master."

"Oh. … So, I'm your slave now," he said, no question or even anger to his tone, simply a stoic recognition.

"Nothing so barbaric," Louise frowned, seemingly insulted. "You're contracted with me and you are to serve and protect me until death."

Yes, that did not sound much different from a slave, or—as Farkas might say—being married. Of course, he had inferenced the logical distinction between the two, but his young 'master' had articulated it so poorly that she herself must not have granted much thought on the matter, which was worrisome. What she probably meant was that he still had his own individual freedoms to exercise, even if he held the duty of acting at her behest.

"That isn't so bad … is it?" Louise asked.

She had not been asking him when she said it, that much was obvious. There were a host of things he'd heard from that small voice and doubt was chief among them. Moments passed after that voice. Surtr spent them silently wondering and reconsidering the questions he should ask, of which there were many. Once he'd come up with one, Louise stood from her chair.

"It's late," she said. "I'm going to change."

"Oh," he let out dumbly, forgetting his question immediately. This girl truly was serious about their new arrangement. "I'll stand outside then."

"Huh? What am I, a plague?" Louise stuttered for a moment, seemingly insulted. "Just face the window, familiar. …"

With no thoughts or complaints, the young man did just that and stared out the window.

What should have been a minor distraction to pass the minute began its own series of questions, though. The evergreen lands about this 'Academy of Magic' was quite beautiful. There were few forests like this in Skyrim. That and the College of Winterhold was the only school for magic in the country. He couldn't have still been in the freezing nation.

No, this reminded him of the woods around the stone-laden hamlet he'd grown up in back in Cyrodiil. Back when he was a little thieving waif, when he'd met the old man and was subsequently whipped into shape. The starry sky brought him back too, reminding him of those dear nights he would climb onto the roofs of houses and shops just to stare up at the moons. …

The moons …

Masser and Secunda were missing. … Instead, there floated two unrecognizable white ones in their place, both the sizes of what Masser would be.

"Familiar. You may look away from the window."

The moons were different.

"Familiar?"

He turned around to the sight of Louise in her nightwear, looking unsure of what to say next.

"Sorry. What did you need?" he asked, collecting himself.

"I was just thinking," she said. "Regardless of where you came from, you are acclimating well to your new role as my familiar. In light of this, I've decided to personally show you the many benefits there are to being bound to the third daughter of the Vallière family. Starting tomorrow." She declared proudly.

Was this her way of belittling the comparison he'd made to slavehood? If so, that was nice.

"Then I'll do all that I can to deserve it," he said. "Master Louise."

Oh, perhaps he should not have said that. Even if she was beaming at him with the cutest smile he'd ever seen. Of course, this was negated somewhat when she pointed to a basket filled with clothes.

"Then you can start by washing those."

And then she snapped her fingers. Surtr observed with interest as the lantern went out. The only other person he'd known to do such a thing with magefire was Neloth the Master Wizard of House Telvanni, and he'd outright refused to teach him how to do so, believing that he was some secret mage who harbored ambitions to one day surpass him.

Would Louise teach him to do that? If he stayed in her good graces she might someday, he hoped. But then, a more important question surfaced.

What was there to keep him from running off right now?

Considering he was not without his gear, he didn't think there could be many things that would stop him. Something had told him not too, though, and that was what he'd seen in the night sky just moments ago. Then he remembered.

A while ago, he had thought to sew a pocket on the inside of his fur cloak just to fit his journal into.

Before doing anything else, he fished the book out from the thing and poured through it.

_Loredas, 14th of Frostfall_

_I found Lydia's old crossbow this morning. She never did use the thing. I would visit her grave again today if I thought she wanted me too. I know she wouldn't have. Still, I have to keep myself busy somehow._

_Shot and skinned a deer. The first arrow hit the breast instead of the neck. Lydia would never have missed at that distance._

_I have come to the conclusion that avoiding conflict is impossible for the likes of me. I found a carriage being robbed by highwaymen and ended my stroll by killing them. One of them I cut down, the other I hit in the jaw. Not too hard, but all the same, his heart wasn't beating when I turned him over. The driver was well enough, but his daughter was hurt in a very bad way. I tore off the garments of one of the dead men and had her cover up. Driver wanted to reward me. Gave him my own gold instead._

_I found the site those bandits used to trek to and from the main road. Marked it down. Someday soon, I'll set this place ablaze. Not today. I'm so very tired._

_Opened up a Black Book. I hate Hermaeus Mora, but the thing's realm is nice for getting a quick read. It was a nice story, if not a bit too romantic. Killing someone is never elegant nor beautiful._

_Had a potato and some mutton for dinner. Heard some noises coming from the cellar again. I wonder—skeevers or spiders? Just checked. It's skeevers. That being said, I'm going to sleep and leave this mess for tomorrow. I have to keep myself busy somehow._

That was the last page on which had been written.

There were no new entries he did not remember.

Surtr looked at the small girl through the darkness of the room, hearing her breathing slow to a steady rhythm as she entered blissful sleep. And he shut his eyes.

"I think," he muttered out, head dazed. "I think I should go for a walk."

* * *

**A/N: Louise's brat levels are at a safe 10%. This will change. There are a lot of assholes in Skyrim, so I assume the Dragonborn would be way more tolerant than the average person to deal with them.**

**Next chapter will be longer. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Getting Familiar (I)

_Chapter 3 - Getting Familiar (I)_

* * *

In Skyrim, southeast of the city of Riften, there stood a castle. Its first name forgotten, Surtr had known it only as Fort Dawnguard. And it had been a sight to behold. The castle was originally a prison, meant to confine the son of Riften's Jarl during the Second Era—a miserable bid made to offset the vampiric boy's inhuman thirst, that they might acquire a cure someday. As such, it was a given that many aspects of the place weren't exactly suited for military use after the Dawnguard took solace there.

Even so, the castle had bothered his childhood inclination to mind any and all structural faults a building could have, as well as making himself familiar with every entrance and exit. It was from then on that he'd begun to account for things like aesthetic, and that made him see all manner of houses and palaces differently. He would appreciate the beauty that went into creating such places, especially when designed with practicality in mind.

This place? Most certainly some kind of college. It was bigger than most towns he knew, and these towers reminded him of the Imperial Palace. Nowhere near as tall, but they were still high. There were dormitories; classrooms; staff; Surtr hadn't walked ten feet from his summoner's room before he was met with garishly obnoxious evidence of Tristain Academy's wealth. Some walls were even chased with patterns at their baseboards, and he couldn't help but wonder why. No one he knew actually looked at those.

Of course, he had made certain to keep within the shadows when he heard someone near. It would usually be a maid—uniformed and far cleaner than maids he knew. Their eyes not too sharp, he barely needed to keep so still.

From one classroom he had taken a parchment and a finely cut pencil, intent on mapping out the halls of this academy. Then, taking a seat outside in the grass, he drew onto the page a diagram of what little he had seen of this place's shape.

It must have been an hour of the man simply staring down at the little drawing. While unfinished, he didn't need to think hard on the rest of the building's layout to see what was—clear as day—a star.

All of a sudden, Surtr was feeling very, very silly.

"It really is just a school then?" He'd asked aloud, as if the concept was truly astonishing. To him, it was. He had been expecting to find some other layer of the place, perhaps a room where they conducted necromancy with the corpses of unruly staff. He didn't know. Either this school hid its skeletons well, or an Aura Whisper was nowhere near enough to reveal them.

"… I sound like Lydia." He did, didn't he? Nords, including his late companion, were always distrustful of mages, and the College of Winterhold was often a target for that mistrust. Everyone in Skyrim believed the college had been involved in some terrible plot. And all Surtr had ever seen were people his own age, eagerly wishing to learn magic and change life for the better.

Perhaps he was wrong, but he knew how scarce trust could be among people. When he was a boy he'd known trust as a knife. If one gave it to others, someone was inevitably going to stab them with it. But if someone else gave them their own …

Well, Surtr had a knife right now. By all means, there was nothing stopping him from marching right up to little Louise's room and seeing to it that the girl wouldn't see morning. That's what trust meant. Perhaps she was too naive to know it, but this girl had placed her very life in his hands and expected nothing horrendous to come of it.

In spite of the girl's lack of development, she had to have been in her late teens if she was to attend this school—that is, if the other students he'd seen were anything to go by. At that age, she had to have considered the possibility of him being a thug or worse. She must have.

He couldn't simply be rid of this trust. Branded or not, Surtr did not think life as a servant sounded appealing. The night sky told him this land was not his own, and that excited him. He wanted to venture out, know where it was he'd been brought to. There was a stable not too far from here even. But this girl wanted his stay.

It was decided then. He needed to know the purpose behind the faith he'd been given. If this girl needed him for whatever reason, he would stay by her side for as long as he thought reasonable. If she hadn't meant to trust him so greatly, then he would take his leave. He would find out soon enough.

"Guess I'll start by washing those clothes then."

A friend once told him he held a propensity to saying impactful, heroic things when under pressure. He wasn't sure that was one of them. Now, just where had that fountain been?

* * *

"I can dress myself, familiar! Now turn around!"

The young man did not imply she could not in the first place, but he did as he was told, certainly grateful that the girl regarded him with enough thought to make him avert his eyes. Due to his simple role, he almost worried she'd treat him no better than a dog.

"Familiar, put that cape on," she ordered. He did so, not saying a word all the while.

When watching the girl's morning routine, Surtr's mind wandered back to women he'd met who dazed him with their beauty. Jarl Elisif of Solitude was dazzling, but he'd known part of that glow was the result of expensive makeup. Aela the Huntress was pretty even through her warpaint, but her appearance played second to her rather forceful personality. He was always a mite timid around her, and the rest of Jorrvaskr never failed to tease him over that.

Louise was an odd case, though. She didn't use makeup it seemed, and she looked downright angelic when placed under a good light. It wasn't the sort of attractiveness that inspired lust—not from him—but it carried a bizarre innocence striking enough to make him blush had he been younger. Now, all it did was make his glances a second or two longer.

"Okay," she said then. "We're leaving now."

That they were. Both mage and familiar entered the hallway, and not long after had they been greeted with the sight of another student doing the very same.

The young woman donned the same uniform as Louise, only the top two buttons containing her well-endowed chest were undone. Her skin was dark in tone, telling of a life attuned to the sun, and her long hair was a vibrant red. She stood roughly just below Surtr's height.

And she feigned surprise at seeing them, smiling widely as they watched her.

"Good morning, Louise," she said.

"Good morning, Kirche," Louise responded, not returning the smile.

The girls exchanged a few awkward 'pleasantries'—most involving the oddity of Surtr's being there. He hadn't been paying close attention. Something in the air smelled a lot like fire.

"Be honest with me, Vallière. Did your parents buy you a knight knowing you couldn't perform the ritual properly? Everyone's been talking about it since yesterday." Kirche said.

"How dare you even accuse me of that! Everyone saw me seal the contract, and you all saw the runes." Louise said, cheeks becoming an angry red.

"Yes, I know," Kirche sighed. "But can you blame us? Summoning a human? We would have been less surprised if you had managed to summon … well, something like this!"

He watched with intrigue as Kirche called out something, and from her bedroom emerged a large reptilian creature. Nearly as big as a sabre-cat, the animal's scales were a dark red and its tail brandished a bright blaze at its tip. The morning temperature in the hall shook at the beast's appearance.

"His name is Flame." The girl gestured to the lizard with pride.

"A flame salamander," Louise huffed. "How creative you are, Kirche."

"Aw. Why, I thought it was cute. Look at him. A flame like that can only mean he's from the Fire Dragon Mountains! What better name for him than that?"

Surtr agreed—that name was very uncreative, but there was a charm to its simplicity.

He figured these two girls were rivals of a sort. That was nice. The lizard had begun circling him as their little argument came to a close. Animals always did seem to know what he truly was, the smaller ones frightened off and the larger ones sent into a frenzy, but this one seemed all too composed. He knelt down and patted the thing's head, unable to repress a smile as the lizard pushed itself further into his hand.

He never got many chances to pet animals. He would take what he could get.

"Huh," he heard Kirche say, locking eyes with him. "He seems to really like you. …" She grinned. "I suppose that makes both of us."

"We don't have time for this." Louise all but pulled him from the floor. "Let's go, familiar!"

He would be back to pet Flame later. Maybe even shout some fire at the little guy, he imagined it would like that. It would be his own reward for this day.

* * *

Louise kept her gaze leveled and ignored the stares that came from all about her, walking calmly toward the dining hall with her familiar at her back, both their cloaks (she imagined) flowing in the wind as if they were royals on a mission from the Queen.

Being teased and mocked by Kirche von Zerbst was certainly not her preferred way to start a morning, but the looks of reverence and curiosity aimed her way were quickly serving to rid of any displeasure she might have had.

The young mage had the day to think about it. She'd gotten a knight for a familiar. She would not let Kirche's mockery get to her. He may not have been a noble, but this was still leagues above many of the familiars the other students had contracted with! Some were jealous of her, weren't they? That realization had brought her some small amount of joy the day before. Today, though, her attitude was soaring.

And it only rose higher as the looks persisted into breakfast. Although she wished the man had decided to take a chair and not just sit on the floor. Well … she had told him to do so, she just hadn't taken into account how unflattering it would look having a fully armored warrior sitting on the floor like a dog.

Another oddity of her familiar—he seemed almost apprehensive to talk with her. She noticed this fairly quickly and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand, he wasn't talking her to death, which was great. On the other hand, he was observing absolutely everything around them while paying little mind to her presence at all. He wasn't even eating much of his breakfast.

He seemed to not like the Alvíss statues very much either. He'd been eyeing them with obvious suspicion.

"Miss Louise," the man asked from his spot on the floor. "Can I ask a question?"

_Oh, he does talk_, Louise thought. And he called her 'miss'. It was formal, but she was hoping to hear another 'master' from him.

"What is it?"

"I was only wondering if this school had some sort of library," he said. "I imagine the books in this place would be a nice read."

That had been an unexpected request. A commoner who saw reading as a pastime? She had been entertaining the thought of the man being a polite meathead who only valued food and training or something equally ridiculous. Armor or no armor, standing just at six feet with a jaw like that bespoke a strong body. What did he look like without that gear on? She would know soon enough, wouldn't she? He couldn't wear the same thing every day.

No, she was not fantasizing. Only assessing him.

An odd realization struck her. Louise did not even know her familiar's name. That seemed like quite the pertinent information to be lacking. Then again, she had been very tired by the time he'd woken up. Had he not thought it worth introducing himself to her?

"Familiar, you have yet to tell me your name."

"Oh. You're right," he said. "My name is Surtr. 'Surtr' means black in an old tongue … and I don't have a family name."

No family name? Was that rare among commoners?

"How old are you?" She asked.

"I turned twenty some … two months ago," he said, though it sounded uncertain. "But is that a no to the library then?"

Ah, that. There was no real harm in letting him wander off, was there? She had specifically requested he be allowed into the Alvíss dining hall due to his being a human, so this matter shouldn't have been much different. But she had been so looking forward to an entire day of these awfully awed looks from her peers. Then again …

"Fine then," she decided. "We'll go after breakfast."

She almost felt like a parent, granting her new familiar his wish so generously. Now why did he look disappointed?

"You sure it won't be a bother? You have classes, don't you?"

"No, not today." she said. "We've all been granted one day to build relations with our familiars. Stop looking let down! You're getting what you want, aren't you?"

* * *

Surtr had not wanted Louise to accompany him today. Still, he was looking forward to spending some time in this place. Some would never have thunk it, but he was every ounce the bookworm that the typical weak-bodied scholar was. If he'd been just a few years younger, he might have truly jumped in glee the moment he entered the library.

What a library it was too. He had only been allowed into the College of Winterhold on a number of occasions, and each time it had been to visit the Arcaneum. A treasure trove of knowledge given to anyone willing to simply sit and leaf through it all. But this place put even the Arcaneum to shame in terms of both size and the sheer volume of tomes stored on its shelves, many of which looked too high to even reach.

"I'm trusting you to get me a good book, familiar. Now go."

That's what his little 'master' had ordered of him. Across the table, she was seemingly engrossed in whatever book on magical theory he'd picked up, pressing her eyebrows together so much it must have hurt. Was that how she focused?

Fearing the laugh that was slowly building in his chest, he looked away from the girl and opened up his own books.

Yes, _books._

It was obvious at this point, but Surtr had now grown certain he wasn't on Nirn. Waking up in a land with cultures and traditions and gods all unheard of throughout Tamriel? Vibrant hair colors he once thought impossible to grow? Mages capable of successful flight? Moons not the same as those that ought to be in the night sky? There was only one logical conclusion he had reached. And so, he'd gathered some books and started browsing through.

_The Cultures of Halkeginia_; _The Founder's Lessons_; _The Divide Between Men_; and a couple other informative novels.

What he'd learned in summary: The continent he was on was called Halkeginia. The country in which he resided was called Tristain. The world's religion at large seemed to follow one figure, a deity they called the Founder Brimir. The man apparently granted the gift of magic to humankind and ascended to godhood, much like Talos did on Nirn. Those capable of using magic were considered to be of noble blood. Those incapable of the art were simply deemed commoners.

This had been a lot to think about. Tristain Academy was seemingly prestigious in reputation. More than a few mages that attended this place were children of highly prominent people in society. His nighttime stroll had been enough to confirm the structure of the school, which was one hall short of being shaped like a star, a symbol important enough to have been engraved into the pendants every student wore.

The very language of this place was nation was different than what he knew. He hadn't thought anything amiss until he'd seen a couple of signs around he couldn't read. No, rather, he'd been able to read them, knowing that he'd never once seen it written before. He didn't know the bizarre ceremony he was put through when he entered this world, but he assumed it was their magic's doing.

The magic they practiced too was far different than what he knew. An old friend in Cyrodiil had taught him over the course of a month how to use a basic fire spell effectively, and there were many who couldn't do that much. In the end, though, anyone could do it with the proper practice and guidance. The same did not apply to this place. Not only could most not use magic at all, but it required wands for spellcasting. Mages on Nirn had stopped using those things a long, long time ago.

Naturally, there was much he had missed out on in his voyage for some knowledge on this world. He was saddened to learn that he could not use this land's magic, nor the few spells he did know for that matter. Years ago, he'd read a collegiate theory suggesting that man's ability to use magic was somehow linked to the two moons in the sky, being pieces of Shor that imbued all mortalkind with magicka from their presence alone. It was hardly a leading theory—vehemently rejected by most mages, he'd found.

In the name of experimentation, Surtr attempted to cast a basic healing spell, heedless of the puzzled look his summoner regarded him with. There was little to worry about, for it did not work. So, perhaps that old theory was not so baseless after all.

For now? He would read some more. If not to learn more, then simply to entertain himself. Among his favorite things to busy himself with were engaging works of fiction, skill books, and the histories of ancient ruins where one was more than likely to find splendid treasures if they knew what they were doing. His least favorite books? Those that filled entire pages relaying useful knowledge in painstakingly dull manners.

And so he'd turned away five books in twenty minutes after deciding to take the delve into this new culture. Unfortunately, noble authors seemed to possess some very poor imagination. Maybe having such a spoon-fed perspective on the world lessened the amount of ideas one was willing to incorporate into their writing. He didn't know.

Well, the fiction here was garbage, so he might as well put his new knowledge into practice.

"Miss Louise. Was that girl from earlier a Germanian?" He asked.

"Huh? Who, Kirche?" She said absentmindedly, her pink eyes falling on the stack of books laying next to him. "Ah, yes. She is … How many books have you been reading?"

Surtr followed her gaze. That was a good question. He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't even remember reading some of these.

"I don't know," was his honest answer.

The girl stared at him, confusion painted clearly on her face.

"What have you been reading about?" She asked.

"History," he said.

"Why do you care so much about history?"

Oh, that was right. She didn't know where he came from. She barely even knew who he was, really, and he'd only just told her his name an hour ago. But she'd been asking about history in general, hadn't she? Not this world's history in particular. He could answer that.

"A lot of the time, you can find books on ancient treasures and ruins," he explained. "I like reading about them so that I might go and explore them some day."

Rather than confused, Louise now looked intrigued.

"You say that as if you've done it once before," she pointed out, studying him. "You don't mean you've done it before, do you?"

Skulking through the dark, going through urns of gold and magic relics, toting out the spoils with friends and laughing. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face after those memories arose.

"I have. Dozens of times."

They'd fallen into a silence after that. Surtr found it difficult reading any more with those odd little glances Louise took to giving him. It hadn't been long before the girl had tired of her own book and said they would be leaving. Before he left, though, he made sure to place the books back where he'd retrieved them. He respected the organization of libraries. Men like Urag gro-Shub taught him to.

"Disrupt my Arcaneum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs," the old orc once told him.

Yes, Surtr respected the order of all libraries.

This little outing had been nice, but it got Surtr thinking again. Louise had torn him from his own house to enact a duty he hadn't exactly volunteered to do. All common sense told him he should be cross about that, but he was far from that at the moment. Why then was his worry not greater regarding the circumstances surrounding his being brought to this world? Was it the comfort of simple ignorance?

The young man had met his fair share of lost spirits on his adventures. There were always a host of reasons why they could not pass on, but it was usually the fault of some powerful ambition left unfulfilled in the mortal realm.

Surtr, however, had no such business. Of course, he was not a ghost either, but there wasn't very much for him to look forward to back in Skyrim. Nothing he desired at least. Had this summoning occurred before, for example, he traveled to Sovngarde to battle Alduin for the final time, he would have been in a maddening panic and fury. This was not the case, though. Funnily enough, he felt a smidgen more free here now, in spite of his newfound role as a supposed servant.

The world was safe. In his wake, Surtr had met many a man who put even his own skill to shame. If there were those like the Ebony Warrior being born every day, then Nirn would be able to fight back any threat. It was no different than if he had truly died. He couldn't always be the savior. Life would continue to thrive. Always.

Whether he'd been deluding himself or not, it didn't matter. At the dawn of that revelation, the Dragonborn felt at ease.

* * *

Ever since morning, Louise had been thinking about her familiar.

He told her he'd gone treasure-hunting many times in his life. When she asked about his fur cloak, he said a man named Ulfric had gifted it to him. He didn't eat much because he didn't want to indulge himself with food. He enjoyed reading possibly more than she herself did. And he had a habit of looking as if he was always daydreaming somehow.

The more things she learned about the man's character, the more she found herself wondering.

Why wasn't the man angry with her, being ripped away from whatever high-paying noble he'd been serving? Why had he never once protested against her verbal disregard of his status? Why was he so young? How was his armor always silent?

Where did he come from?

Perhaps her familiar was only trying to be polite, giving so many short answers to her queries, but it only served to frustrate her more. The weight behind his words felt greater than he was letting on. She couldn't explain how, but she knew there was more to the man she'd summoned.

And why was he not getting burned messing with Flame's tail like that?

"They do get along well, don't they? We may just have to schedule a play-date if this keeps up."

Her mind was so busy trying to shake up some answers that she wasn't even glaring at her mortal enemy, Kirche, as they stood together in the hall, watching a giant salamander attempting to wrestle a knight to the floor.

"Hm." The Germanian looked her over. "You really are tired. I suppose I can spare you for one evening then, eh, Vallière? Flame, come here!"

Louise said nothing. She only observed as the fire lizard shuffled over to Kirche's side, leaving her own familiar plastered with that dumb smile.

They had retired to her bedroom. The man hung his cloak on the wall and took the sword from his back. Louise had yet to see that weapon unsheathed. She hadn't considered inspecting it yesterday when she'd lain it down. He took the helmet from his belt and looked around before simply placing it on the floor beside him.

"Surtr," Louise said. "That's what you said your name was, right?"

The warrior nodded at her.

"Where are you from? I mean, just where were you before yesterday? You haven't told me anything. …"

He stayed quiet for a while after she asked that, his expression holding nothing that could be used to read his thoughts. It disturbed her somewhat—not his look, rather the thought of not knowing whether the question had upset him at all.

"I don't remember," he said.

That sounded like the truth to her ears, however untrained they might be. The answer was far from satisfying, though.

"What don't you remember?" She tried again.

"Where I was. I remember going to bed, and I've lost anything after that," he said, a mite distraught. "But I know some things happened after that."

He had not been referring to the summoning itself, had he? That's what it seemed to her.

"Can you tell me anything else then?" She was trying her best at being patient. "Anything at all?"

The man looked down. "I could try and answer any questions you have."

Good. She would start with a simple one. "I've never seen a knight like you before. You are a knight, aren't you?"

"I am," he said. "Knighted at sixteen."

"Sixteen?" Louise repeated. "How does a commoner start so young? Were you a squire?"

"The old man who taught me thought I was ready," he explained. "If you're wondering about my gear, well … I only ever took jobs from different people. And I fetched things. Suppose I was good at it. That's about it, really."

"Fetched? You mentioned that in the library," she pointed out. "What kinds of places did you travel to?"

Surtr studied her for a moment, a grin quickly shaping on his face. "I understand," he said. "You want me to tell you a story, Miss Louise?"

Louise's gaze measured down to a glare, and she was obviously a tidy bit flustered.

"Alright. I have one," he began finally. "This was three years ago, I think. A court wizard sent me to an old tomb to retrieve a relic …"

What followed had been a dark, enthralling tale about an ancient mountain temple, lurking with cut-throats and grave robbers and giant spiders while traps filled each and every few corridors, as well as old chests and rooms overflowing with treasures and magic artifacts. Louise had tried at being unimpressed, but that facade had faltered quickly.

Louise could barely remember the last time she was read stories before bed, but this night harkened back to memories of her sister and the adventure books she used to be so fond of.

"That … never really happened. Did it? It's just a story," she found herself saying, watching as her familiar frowned.

"I wouldn't have told it if it weren't true," he protested.

It had been a logical response, certainly. Louise couldn't believe the way her chest welled up as she casted doubt unto it. Did she wish so badly for that tale to be reality? Or perhaps she was hoping that Surtr would not lie to her—coming up with a tall-tale just to ease her quandary, like one would for a mere child. The man saw her as more than that, didn't he?

"I am sixteen," she said aloud, perhaps not consciously. "I am a woman. Not a child. I won't appreciate being fed lies, familiar."

The warrior appeared at a lost for words, then assumed a look that bespoke utter dejection.

"I did … appreciate your story," she added. "And I'm pleased you answered my questions as best you could."

Once again, her familiar stared until finally seeming to register her words. He smiled an assuring smile and Louise nearly returned it. _That dumb grin is contagious_, she thought, but was content all the same.

An hour later, before she got into bed, Louise tossed down a pillow to her familiar. She had begun to feel guilt seep in at the sight of him laying on wooden floor with nothing to cushion him. It was the very least she could have done for him.

This had been a rather strange day, hadn't it? While most students had spent time petting or training their familiars, she'd only been trying to get him to speak. Even now, she wasn't sure if she'd won the young man's favor at all. They'd only just met. Trust needed building among them both if this was to last. Such was the nature of human beings.

Louise would have loved nothing more than to pretend the man was nothing but an animal who followed orders, but she'd already ruined her chance at establishing that kind of relationship. She wasn't sure she was even fond of the idea either. Surtr had been nice to talk with, the few moments he chose to do so. No, she must treat him as he is—a person, just like her. If not to earn his loyalty, then simply because she wanted to.

Wait a moment …

_Oh no_, her sleepy mind rattled. _Am I trying to become _friends_ with my familiar?_

It was odd. Then again, it was only so because she had summoned a human in the first place. The man could not breathe fire or fly or share telepathic sight with her. He was only a man. But he was also a warrior. He could do more than most men, and if his account was to be believed, he was good at what he did. He was more than an accessory to drag around. He could protect her.

Yesterday, he might have been able to sneak off in the dead of night, never to be seen again. And for this, she would have become a laughing stock. A mage capable of neither magic nor keeping the very familiar she'd tried so hard to summon. Instead, he had stayed. And rather than attempt a nightly escape back to wherever his home was, he had chosen to do something as menial as washing her clothes. Was that worthy of trust? She wasn't sure, but she did not have much choice. She would do so because he was her familiar, and it was the very least she should do for him.

Louise did not know how long she had lain there thinking. When she'd turned to catch a glimpse at the knight, he was already asleep.

And so, she'd said, "Good night, Surtr." He would not hear her, but that was the only reason she had said it at all. The man didn't need to know.

The young mage headed off to sleep then, thinking about the words there would be in her letter next time she wrote to her dear sister.

* * *

**A/N: The Dragonborn wants to go 'splorin. He must wait. Tomorrow, he'll actually start meeting people as well.**

**And I'm aware Louise seems too considerate here, but I'm trying to dial back the anime levels of volatility as it feels a bit silly to write.**


End file.
